Attempted Sonnet #1: A Dialoge Between Dance, Street and Sky

sun-dusted pink from dancing massed street-side
in muddled twists of body and drumbeat
the beasts on asphalt speak, they do confide
with elbow flashes, flurries quick and sweet:
"we are the place that you became." they said
with big bang punctuation, words begin
a churning mouth of limbs and fingers spread
the air is left no room to breathe, swathed skin
whose movements ramp a lovely skyward steam,
through sweat the mass breathes frantic steam-pressed streaks
against gravity's grasp, broke by light beam
before each fracture the beasts do speak:
A sweaty message made through cry and mess
through sunburned dance and pressed togetherness



parts of it are super contrived but I haven't done this in YEARS.